Three Words Unsaid
by theearth
Summary: Hermione has to marry her dreaded Potions Master due to the Marriage Law. She falls in love with him, but one day, she leaves him. Why?


**Three Words Unsaid**

**Unfortunately, everything you recognise belongs to J.K. Rowling.******

**Thanks to my beta, Lady Whitehart, who looked for mistakes in grammar and spelling. Thanks also to LariLee.******

**I am German and learned English at school years ago.******

**The story is a usual MLC with a pureblood Snape and completely AU in other aspects as well. The plot begins some months before the final battle in Hermione's seventh year at Hogwarts. This story has been published on Ashwinder before; it was my first one. Please be nice. Yes, I admit it, I am maudlin. **

**Severus**

Would he ever get over her? It had been two hundred and forty-six days since she had left him. She had left the day after the _Daily Prophet_ had proclaimed that the Marriage Law was no longer valid. 

'Get a grip man; you have lived without her for thirty-eight years.' 

'But in these thirty-eight years you have not known what love was,' a tiny voice in his head contradicted. He missed her so much it hurt: two hundred and forty-six days alone in his quarters and in his laboratory, two hundred and forty-six nights with an empty bed beside him. The first nights after she had left, there had still been her smell on the pillow; it had faded, but he carried it in his head like her picture. He had left his Floo open for her. Against all better judgment, he had hoped that she would return to him, but she had not. He did not even know where she was. She had filed for divorce the very next day. According to the new Law, they were divorced immediately.

How could it have happened that he had loved her so much that he thought he could not go on without her? They had been forced to marry because of that horrible Marriage Law, and in the beginning, he had been furious. Him, marrying an eighteen-year-old girl, the know-it–all of Gryffindor of all people! He had soon learned that, in her eyes, he had not been the hated and feared teacher, but a brilliant man. He had even learned that in her eyes he was not ugly, and had felt accepted for the first time in his life.

He had never been someone people loved easily. In his youth, his grades at school had been excellent, but he had failed in Quidditch. He had fallen off a broom one day and had become the laughing stock of his class. Children could be cruel if someone was different - and he was. When he had come to Hogwarts, he had been a timid and quiet boy. He had been thin and had greasy hair, which refused to improve though he had washed it daily. He had a pallid face and an overlarge nose, which he had been soon ridiculed about. When entering Hogwarts, he had known more of the Dark Arts than most of the fifth years. Other students had thought him creepy; he had been an outsider for the entire time he attended the school. He had been the victim of several pranks and had often been humiliated in front of the whole school. 

The only person who had become a sort of mentor at school had been Lucius Malfoy. Though he was several years older than Severus was, Malfoy had noticed the boy's knowledge and addiction to the Dark Arts. It had been Lucius who had introduced him to Voldemort, who had seen at once how he could use this outsider for his advantage. The one last event that had driven him to join the Death Eaters was when Sirius Black had sent him after the werewolf, who had nearly killed him. Everyone had said it was just a prank. This was, when he had sworn to himself that he needed no one, no companionship and no friendship, that power and knowledge were the only things he would need. He had become bitter, cruel and revengeful.

When he had finally realised that he had made the worst mistake in his life, he had turned to Dumbledore in despair and had become a spy for the Light, but he had remained alone. Dumbledore had supported him, but he was also his superior. Severus had no friends, even most members of the Order barely accepted him. Only the authority of Albus had prevented some of them of insulting him openly, though he had put his life in danger every time the Dark Lord summoned him.

No friends, no lover, his wrong choice of roads, it had been too late to change his life. He was brilliant, but was also sarcastic and mean. He had shut everyone out. There were other teachers who were loved; Severus had known he would never be one of them. He had taken pride in being the most feared teacher at Hogwarts, he did not need his colleagues; he did not need anyone. Nobody dared to laugh in his face any longer, but he knew the names he was called behind his back: the _greasy git_ and _the overgrown bat of the dungeons. _

Then she had entered his life and changed everything. Everyone had wondered, how she could like a man like him, but she had been able to look behind his façade. She had shared his passion for knowledge and had endeavoured to become an equal in every part of his life.

She knew about his past, knew about the horrible things he had done in his youth as a Death Eater, but she did not condemn him for that, nor did she pity him. She had admired him for what he had done for the Order.

She had been kind and friendly to him, Merlin had known why. He had seen her efforts to make this marriage work; he had seen that she had tried to understand him and his harsh personality, though he had driven her away many times when she had tried to break through his defences. She had never given up.

What he had thought would be an annoying duty had turned out to be beyond imagination – their sexual relationship. He had been a passionate and gentle lover and shown her in so many ways how much he loved her; to him it seemed to be the best way to express his feelings. She had even told him that she loved him. He had opened his heart for her, a heart that was not used to love.

He knew that to be married to him had not been easy for her. In the beginning, some schoolmates had whispered whether her good grades had something to do with her husband being a teacher, though it was ridiculous, she had always been an excellent student and had finally graduated at the top of her class. She had also been a favourite target for jokes about sex between the greasy git and the bookworm. Though he was a wealthy man from an ancient family, the name Snape was not a name welcomed in the Wizarding world; she had made that experience very soon.

After the fall of Voldemort, Severus had felt more and more uneasy about his relationship to Hermione. After Voldemort's defeat, protection was no longer necessary, he had felt useless and weak and he hated this feeling. He knew he was only an obstacle to her career. She was the brightest witch in ages, pretty and young.

When he had shown her the newspaper, she had asked him whether he loved her and if he wanted her to leave. Why would she ask? He loved her with all his life and strength, and she knew that. He did not want her to leave, but he also did not want her to stay only because she was grateful or felt obliged. What could he offer her?

Then she was gone.

He knew that she had cared for him, that she liked him and maybe she had actually loved him, but obviously not enough.

How would he get over her? He had rarely been able to sleep. Every night when sleep had finally overtaken him, he had dreamt of her. So he had begun to take the Sleeping Draught. Yes, he had known it was addictive and Albus had warned him that he would become a danger for his students. He would try, maybe tomorrow or the day after tomorrow, when the picture of her in his head would fade. But he knew it would not.

Everything that had been important to him in his past was without worth for him now. He did not have the patience or strength for research. His books had always been comfort and safety for him. They had created a world of their own in his fantasy, allowing him to escape his loneliness. After the marriage with Hermione, he had still appreciated them, but they had not been everything in his life. Now even reading could not distract him. After a few pages, he felt that he could not concentrate any longer. If he had not known, what love was, the books would have been sufficient, but now they only reminded him of his loss, and often enough he hurled them against the wall.

The fury he radiated in class had reached a level Albus would no longer tolerate. Besides, tormenting the students did not ease his pain, nothing did. He had tried to drown his thoughts in alcohol, and it had become more and more of a habit to sit at the fire after work with a glass of Firewhisky. He had never been handsome, but now he looked like the very caricature of the greasy git everyone mocked.

And now Albus had even dared to send Potter to him. Potter of all people! He was an officer at the Ministry of Magic now and had told him that he risked to get sacked if he did not stop the abuse of the Sleeping Draught. 'As if that would matter any longer,' he had spat in Potter's face. Potter had even asked him whether he loved Hermione, wasn't it obvious? Potter had looked at him with an odd expression, – probably pity, damn him - babbled something about a second chance, and had left. Severus had not cared.

**Hermione**

She had left him! She had never thought that would happen; he was the man she loved with all her heart. But obviously she had expected too much from their marriage. She had thought he was happy too, thought that he loved her; but then…He had handed her the _Daily Prophet_ with the announcement that the Marriage Law had been cancelled and that a divorce was possible even if only one spouse filed for it. He had said nothing, only looked at her with an odd expression in his face. At first she had declined to see how that referred to their marriage, they loved each other, but then it had struck her. He had never told her he loved her, he had protected her and told her how much he cared about her and been so different from the person known in public; he had seemed to be happy with her. Suddenly she had recalled the change in his behaviour during the past months. She had been a liability, but not the woman he loved. When she had asked him if he loved her or wanted her to leave, he had not said a single word.

If anybody had told her a year before that her heart would break over the loss of her husband, she would have called him mental. It had been anything but a marriage of love. The Marriage Law had forced her as a Muggle-born witch to marry a pureblood. How could she end like this, fallen hopelessly for that man? He had been her teacher for seven years. In her first Potions class, she had only seen his mean and hateful behaviour; but over the years she had learned a few things about him and understood how he had become like that. She had respected him for his brilliant mind; there was no doubt he was a genius. She had also learned about his role as a spy for the Order. She had often defended him when her friends had called him names, but he had been no man she would have liked as a friend. Though she had known in her heart that he was an honourable man, he was twice her age and often cruel and sarcastic. She was not the superficial kind of girl who only went for good looks, but there was no way to think of Severus Snape as handsome. He was thin, had a sallow face, uneven teeth and a huge crooked nose. But what she abhorred most were his piercing eyes and a mouth which seemed unable to smile.

In classes, he had never paid her any compliment about her work, even though her potions were flawless. In her opinion, he had been a distant and cold man without emotions. So when the Marriage Law passed, and she had to realise that her only option was Severus Snape, she had cried for days. He had told her in plain terms that he considered her a nuisance and preferred to remain alone as much as possible. But her marriage had turned out to be quite the opposite of what she had expected.

At first, he had only sneered at her enthusiasm when she had seen his library. She had known, that in his eyes, she had been nothing more than a girl who talked too much and he had called her an insufferable know-it-all innumerable times. Soon, she had noticed his gaze through his curtain of hair, and one evening he had asked her about the book she was reading. Certainly, he had expected her only to repeat what she had read, quite like a parrot. She had remembered the surprised look on his face when she had worked out the problem and suggested a solution, though he had not agreed. They had spent days and nights discussing books and new potions, and she had discovered that he had a fine sense of humour and a dry wit. She had told him how she liked this, how she appreciated the days with him, which had earned her an incredulous look. Getting to know more of his feelings had been different. One evening after several glasses of Firewhisky, he had called her a Florence Nightingale, who wanted to continue her pet project S.P.E.W. with an old, ugly Death Eater. When she had objected violently and told him she cared for him, he had been speechless for seconds. She had felt that he had not believed her, but she had shown him that she accepted him and that she was not ashamed to be seen with him. It had hurt her that the Wizarding world did not recognise the integrity and moral strength of her husband, even after the fall of Voldemort when it was revealed that Severus Snape had been a spy for the Light.

Eventually, he had not shut her out as he had in the beginning. She had learned more and more about his self-loathing; she knew that he could not forgive himself what he had done in his youth as a Death Eater. The moments he had talked about his feelings were rare; she knew, he considered this as a weakness and had always tried to deal with his problems himself. She had realised that the image of the confident Potions master he presented to the world was different from his view of himself.

She had begun to love the solitary man, something she had been confused about at first. He was nothing she had dreamt about as a girl. At first, she had considered it a delusion, had looked for a psychological explanation. The beginning of their marriage was anything but encouraging. In some romance novels, she had read about love that had begun with a passionate wedding night. But the consummation of their marriage had been nothing of that sort. The imagination of sex with her Potions master had made her shudder. She had had no experience at all and he had been repulsed by the idea of bedding a student. It had been an awkward duty they both had been glad to get over with as soon as possible.

She was not at all prepared for what awaited her when their relationship had changed. He was a passionate lover. She had never thought that his voice, which he seemed to use in her Potions class only to humiliate the students could be used in such a different manner and what his hands she had seen chopping potions ingredients could do to her. When he had smiled at her for the first time – a real smile and not the menacing or sneering one she was used to in her Potions class – she was stunned. How could she have thought that he was ugly?

Sometimes it had still been difficult to deal with him. He had never been a patient man and was not used to share his personal space. Politeness had been a waste of time for him, and someone had said he had the social skills of a viral pneumonia. He was not what could be called a nice man. Sometimes he had been sour and sullen without reason. She had not complained about this, but had learned to deal with it. She was in love with this man with all his flaws, not with a hero from a trashy romance novel. When she had told him that she loved him for the first time, he had looked at her without answering and had taken her in his arms, not letting her go.

They had loved each other; that was what she had thought, and now it had turned out that only she was in love. In the beginning, when they had discovered their intellectual understanding, she had thought friendship would be sufficient. She had never thought of loving him. But now everything was different. She could not go on like that. She would have to live without him, but better without him than seeing him every day knowing that he did not love her, that he had only become accustomed to her, even had become a friend, but would never love. Now that she knew love, she wanted more. She could not bear it, could not bear to see him any longer, and could not bear the hurt in her heart. All had been an illusion! She knew she would never get over him. She had turned to Harry that evening when she had left Severus. He visited her every week after his work at the Ministry. He had tried to help her though he knew he could give no real comfort to her. Her tears had finally stopped leaving her numb. She knew that she would never love in her life again.

**Harry**

Harry had never thought he would pity that man. Oh, he had hated Snape! He remembered his first day in Potions as if it were yesterday; how Snape had humiliated him asking questions he was sure Harry could not answer. He had not understood the venomous and mean behaviour, but he had soon begun to return the feelings. It had turned out that Snape was a spy for the Order, but he had never trusted him and had never forgiven him the death of Sirius. Though Severus Snape had saved Harry's life many times, Harry despised him.

And then Hermione, his Hermione, had been forced to marry that git, a man old enough to be her father, because of that ludicrous Marriage Law. Harry would have married her himself, but that was not possible. She had cried for days, and when he had suggested that she should leave the Wizarding world, she had refused vehemently. Better enduring a marriage without love than leaving the world where she belonged had been her point of view.

"Maybe," she had stated hopefully, "Snape will not be so mean in private; maybe most of his behaviour was an act to deceive Voldemort, maybe..." Harry had not known what to say; he had wanted to comfort Hermione, but a nice Snape was an illusion. He had seen how she tried to convince herself, had seen how she had tried to smile through her tears.

Harry had sworn to himself that he would be very watchful of how Snape treated her. He had not even tried to imagine how she could bear the touch of that man. At the beginning, everything was as foreseen. Hermione had told him that Snape was as distant as she had imagined. When Harry had mentioned her wedding night, her face had tensed and she had refused to talk about it. Yes, he had known it had not been very tactful, but tact had never been his strength. After a while, something had changed. She had talked about the discussions she had with Snape, about his brilliant mind, and one evening, she had murmured, more to herself than to him, that she had never thought his voice could be so exhilarating and sexy. Snape, the greasy git - sexy? He had had to admit that Snape's outer appearance had improved since he had been married to Hermione. Well, that did not mean Snape could be handsome. It was Snape, for Merlin's sake! Hermione's taste had to improve, that was certain! He had thought she must have gone mad, and he had said so.

Then the impossible had happened: Hermione had fallen in love with Snape. After only a short time, it had become obvious. Ginny had been the first to notice and had told him. Not that he had believed her. How could anyone fall in love with such a prat? That would have been the same as kissing a troll! Hermione had not been amused, when he had said that, instead she had become very angry. She had yelled at him, how he dared to insult the man she loved and that no one had ever been nice to Snape in his whole life and if he would not accept her choice, she would have to think about their friendship. He had been shocked, had tried to apologise and said that he would try to understand. Her eyes and her behaviour showed that she was happy with Snape and, if she was, he was glad for her. He had known that he would never be friends with Snape, but he had tried to tolerate his presence. He had to admit that Snape himself had not been as mean and cruel as before.

But then the Marriage Law had been rescinded and when Hermione had come to Harry that evening, all his loathing for Snape had sprung back to life. Hermione had told him about Snape's reaction; he had never loved her, had driven her away in his cruelty. That was what Harry had always thought: Snape was not able to love. At first, Harry had been relieved and told her she should be glad to get rid of that man. But instead of that being a comfort for her, she had cried even harder. How was he to deal with a weeping woman? She had cried the whole evening and eventually fallen asleep on his sofa.

He had helped her file for divorce and get a flat of her own. He visited her as often as possible, but he did not know what to do. The Hermione he had known for years seemed to no longer exist. She had always been strong and stubborn and had liked to laugh. Now she had become stern and taciturn, and he did not know how to comfort her.

When Albus had called him and told him about Snape's abuse of the Sleeping Draught, his first thought had been _'I will get him sacked. I will make him suffer like he made her suffer.'_ He had not reflected thoroughly on the reasons why Snape would take this draught. Maybe it had something to do with his past as a Death Eater. 

What he saw was not what he had expected. Snape had always been an imposing figure, but now he looked as if he were already dead, paler than usual if this was possible, haggard, his shoulders hunched. There had always been rumours about him being a vampire, now he really looked like one. Snape was sitting in his living room with a glass of Firewhisky that was obviously not his first of the evening when he spat out, "Enjoying yourself, Potter, seeing your hated former Potions master like a lovesick teenager not able to manage his life any longer?" Harry was startled when he recognised that Snape loved Hermione deeply. He had never liked Snape and did not like him now, but Hermione needed him. He would have to do something and Apparated to her flat as soon as he was away from Hogwarts grounds.

The candles had burned down a time ago, and the glow in the fireplace finally expired. Severus sat in the dim light, staring at the wall swallowing glass after glass of Firewhisky. The bottle was empty now. Good, time to go to bed. He would take a shower and brush his teeth tomorrow. Who cared anyway? Maybe he had enough alcohol in his blood to forget her for one night.

"Severus!" 

_'Her voice! Gods, I have begun to hallucinate!' _But then he heard his name again.

When he turned around, he saw her standing in the darkness. How?...Yes, his Floo was still open, and she had used it. She was wearing a heavy cloak and a basket was at her feet. He stared at her face. How had he longed to see her again, but now it was more than he could bear! Suddenly he hated her.

"Why have you come, Hermione? See what you can do for me? Bad conscience after Potter talked to you? Or back to your Florence-Nightingale-complex? I don't need my dutiful ex-wife here. Get out, Hermione, I don't want to see you again, not at any time," he spat venomously.

"Severus, it has nothing to do with pity. I love you..."

"Don't dare you say a word about love," Severus roared. "You left without a word and I...never mind...it is none of your business any longer. Get out!" His rage seemed to deflate, leaving only desperation. "Please go, Hermione," he whispered and averted his gaze.

She did not move. "No, Severus - Harry told me...but I have to know myself: Do you really love me?"

"You know I do," he whispered hoarsely.

Hermione stared at him. "No Severus, I did not know. You have always told me you cared and wanted to protect me, but these three words – you have never spoken them. When you handed me the newspaper, I asked you, but you remained silent.

"Maybe, if not something else had happened, I could have...I had wanted to tell you something important that very morning. You had made quite clear at the beginning of our marriage that you would never like to father a child, and you expected me to take Muggle contraceptives. Something must have gone wrong, because I noticed that I was pregnant…I loved you so much, but I also knew you would have thought it your duty to stay with me if we had a child, even if you never wanted to. I could not stand the thought of our child being a nuisance rather than a sign of our love. I would never have taken an potion to induce an abortion, so I left."

She had always loved him, but she had not known that he loved her with all his heart? She...

."You - a child," he croaked.

"Yes, Severus: your son,." she said and reached into the basket and took a sleeping infant in her arms. He had black feathery hair and a slightly oversized nose. Severus could only stare at this baby. His son, their son – and she loved him.

"He really is no beauty," Severus finally murmured.

Hermione looked at him with love in her eyes. "But he is, Severus, he is."


End file.
